


Betrayal!!! on Ice

by nakanowardcat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M, borderline crack i guess, but fluff too, victor is thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakanowardcat/pseuds/nakanowardcat
Summary: Teacher Yuuri AU, Professional amateur VictorIn which Victor pretends not to be a professional figure skater, and Yuuri talks about his favourite sport in the world... ice hockey.





	

Victor dropped the last cardboard box on the floor and gawped. His brown poodle hid behind him, knowing by instinct the new apartment couldn't be good. And it really wasn't.

He pulled out his phone and dialled furiously. On the sixth ring it picked up.

“Yakov! You can't seriously be suggesting I stay in this place! The ceiling's damp, the wallpaper's peeling. I'm pretty sure there are rats!” Makkachin poked round his leg and sniffed. Victor looked down at his pet's now drooling tongue. “Actually I'm _very_ sure there are rats. There has to be somewhere better!”

Yakov barked down the line that this was the closest place available to the rink, that it wasn't his fault Victor's old apartment flooded and that he shouldn't be bothered by a few rats when the Grand Prix Final was approaching. Something about constantly dealing with special snowflakes; Victor wasn't listening. While he stammered his disbelief, Yakov hung up on him.

Then it was just him, Makkachin and the leaking sink.

“This place looks like it's been flooded,” he said resentfully, but the connection was dead.

Makkachin pawed at the crate that contained his dog bed and with a sigh Victor set about taking the bare minimum he needed to survive. Everything else will have to go in storage, he figured, since otherwise it will smell of damp. His fine wool clothes, so good at keeping out the Russian cold, would get ruined. Cashmere, silk, anything delicate and expensive. He took one look at his neatly bubble-wrapped trophies and put that box aside. Those he would keep.

He kept at it for a couple of hours. Makkachin was set up in a relatively nice corner by the cobwebbed window and the dog supervised proceedings. The cupboards were emptied, hoovered, left open to dry out, he dusted the ceiling and got rid of as much of the muck on the stove as he could. Yakov had never once complained about a lack of cleaning skills.

He wondered with a smile what his fans would think if they could see living legend Victor Nikiforov, in a three room apartment huddled over the kitchen sink filled with suds, apron blotched, cleaning mildew off a set of diner plates on a Saturday afternoon. Stunned and disappointed probably, although some of them might be very into it. He was pleasantly domestic in private.

He'd tackle the bedroom later. At least the mattress was new, as were the sheets. For now he'd keep his clothes in boxes until he'd cleaned the rest of those cupboards and the wardrobe. He hadn't even looked at the bathroom. The thought of that and training tomorrow was too much so he whistled Makkachin. Once Victor unearthed his leash they set off for a walk.

The neighbourhood was pretty nice. It wasn't that close to his home rink, but finding anywhere central on short notice was impossible. He might be well off but even he couldn't pull miracles. As long as they could find a park or somewhere for Makkachin to run around in, this would be alright. The state of the frayed curtains came back to mind. They smelled like something died in them. It wouldn't be too unbearable, he corrected.

It wasn't his usual part of town and they were still in the older part of St. Petersburg. Wandering around they got a little lost, so he pulled out his phone to check the map. Makkachin whined and pointed his snout longingly at a bin, Victor tutted sharply and returned to the map. If they took a left and then another they'd be back on a bigger boulevard. They needed to go right past this place... what was it called?

He zoomed in and peered at the screen. An ice skating rink?

_Huh._

He hadn't realised there was one so close by. He suddenly found the idea of visiting it appealing: he rarely got to see rinks that weren't his own or stadium sized. Plus it seemed too small to have a club, so minimal chances of being recognised (not that he particularly minded either way, but he didn't think Makkachin would appreciate a swarm of fans surrounding them and stepping on his tail). And there was still plenty of time left after to find a park. He set off.

The outside of the building looked run down. The freeze and thaw of all that winter ice had widened cracks in the overhanging concrete ledge protecting the entrance of the rink. Inside it was a very normal, average place. He headed for a large window overlooking the ice, but a lady at the reception desk waved at him to come over.

“Can I help you sir?” She asked.

“Oh no I'm just taking a look...” he said airily. She smiled like someone in-the-know.

“Are you interested in taking classes by any chance?”

Victor smiled gleefully. Minimal chances of being recognised indeed, this lady had _no idea_.

“No, no, I'm really only taking a look!”

“Because you know it's very normal for men your age to start learning new things. Ice skating has a whole range of benefits like...”

The rest of her sentence drowned out.

Men his age?

How old did she think that was? He was horrified. How thin was his hair getting really? Because Yakov kept telling him to shut up about it, but he never really _answered_ the question and perhaps he was getting too old to compete but that wasn't possible when...

“... and above all the coach is great! He came all the way from Japan for the job opening.”

“Hm.” In the face of her enthusiasm he gave the most non-committal answer he could. Sure, being mobbed wasn't always fun, though he could smile and charm, but not being recognised at all, on his own sport's playing field, just plain stung. Weren't these people meant to like ice skating?

“Why don't you sit in on today's lesson as a taster, they're just about to start.”

He could say no, but she looked so hopeful Victor didn't have the heart to refuse. It had been years since he'd even seen basic training, it might be interesting to reminisce about those days while watching a few wobbly skaters take their first steps on the ice.

Makkachin had sneaked off already and made himself comfortable on an empty chair inside, so Victor swung open the door into the rink and took a seat next to him. A few children stood in their skates holding onto the edge. Three little girls, though he couldn't be sure they were girls since they looked more like pudding in all of their padded jackets and scarves, skated in a circle.

“Ok everyone!” A man appeared on the other side and clapped his hands. The skaters turned to him with a smile. He had an accent, but it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, Victor thought as the class started. “Last week was really good! But I think this week you should all be letting go of the wall completely. Then you'll be able to skate more confidently and really fly. I know you've all got it in you!”

The ones still holding the side looked at each other nervously, but joined in with the other three, wobbling around in a loop. The teacher looked satisfied and put on his own skates to meet them.

He spotted Victor. Changing direction away from the class, he glided over. Even with a basic stroke his movement over the ice was clean and elegant, matching the fresh crunch of ice his skates made like music. Victor admired it. Even professional figure skaters struggled to sync their body to the sway of strokes like that.

“Hello! Are you joining us today?” He leaned on the side wall and smiled. Makkachin's tail thumped on the chair. Victor's heart thumped in his chest.

It wasn't just his skating that was beautiful. _He_ _was beautiful_. Behind blue framed glasses he had almond shaped eyes, a dark drop of espresso in milk, rounded cheekbones offset by a soft jaw line. His hair fell over his forehead, contrasting chestnut with his pretty skin.

Victor didn't even find time to be annoyed that yet another skater hadn't recognised him. His heart was jumping about like he'd been zapped, like it was celebrating. He stumbled off the chair.

“Yes! Yes I'm joining you now, today, tomorrow! Thank you!” What on earth was he saying?

The coach laughed and moved his glasses up with a finger.

“That's good to hear,” he said warmly. “ But no 'always', lessons are once a week for this group. You'll need skates too. If you go to reception they'll help you find your size and you can come join us.”

Victor might've blushed a bit so he beamed and turned away fast. He'd never been invited to join an “us” before. The way the coach said it sounded thrilling. The way he moved was uniquely his own and it was inspiring. He had to see more. Makkachin put his head onto his paws and seemed prepared for a long nap. That's what he mostly did while Victor trained anyway.

 

* * *

 

He slammed into the front desk.

“How many groups are there? How often do they train? Does he coach them all? Can I join all of them?”

Maybe his questioning was too intense because she seemed very taken aback.

“Uhm... starter groups meet once a week at 5pm, intermediate twice a week at 10am. And yes, Yuuri is the only coach we have at the moment.”

Yuuri. He was called Yuuri. Victor needed to remember that for the wedding vows.

“Right, I've realised suddenly that I want to skate, really badly. So I'll join every group.” Wait, Yakov wouldn't like that, he'd miss practice. “I'll join every starter group,” he corrected. Better.

“Well, there... there are three starter classes...” she shuffled through a draw for the timetables and dropped half the content on the floor. “Saturdays, Sundays, and Wednesdays. Are you sure you want to join all of them? They cover the same things.”

“Yes, I _need_... I - want to join all of them please, right away.”

She tried her best at polite confusion. “That might be a bit expensive.”

Time with Yuuri was expensive, of course it was, all of Yuuri's time was precious. Victor could've hugged her but he needed to get back to Yuuri fast. He practically threw his card down on the desk.

“Every class please,” he repeated, just in case.

“Uh... Will you need skate hire?”

“I have-... yes, thank you.” He could hardly bring his custom designed blades to such a small rink: it would immediately raise questions. She pointed at a rack of hard-shelled plastic skates. He hadn't used anything like those for two decades.

She pulled out a pair in the correct size. They smelled like feet. But that didn't matter because he was going to see Yuuri three times a week for two months! And by then they would definitely be engaged so a few extra sock washes along the way was a small price in comparison. He put the awful ugly things on, dropped his sleek branded coat in a locker and trotted over the rubber floor back to the rink.

“~Yuuri!~ I'm ready to learn now!”

Yuuri looked up from his little flock of skaters and smiled in answer. “Perfect, could you just take a step onto the ice and wait for me holding the wall tight please?”

Victor nodded enthusiastically, practically glowing. Yuuri had called him perfect, more or less. Today was the best day of his life: he'd met Yuuri and Yuuri had called him perfect. He was so happy he might cry. He hung needlessly onto the wall as though clinging on for dear life.

When Yuuri was satisfied the skaters could carry on by themselves, he came over. He really did skate wonderfully, Victor thought. There was something very special about it.

“Nice to meet you, my name's Yuuri,” he said with a chuckle, “but you seem to already know that. I coach all the classes here. Can I have your name for this week's register?”

He can have my name for anything he wants, Victor answered in his head, have it for life. But would his name sound familiar and would he then recognise him? Either way it didn't really matter since they were going to get married. There was no point in hiding anything.

“Victor Nikiforov!”

He looked dead into Yuuri's beautiful eyes for a second expecting to see a light spark in them. Instead Yuuri gazed blankly back and then took out a piece of paper from his pocket to mark the name down under his other six students. Yuuri... really didn't know who Victor was?

“I've never figure skated before.” He tried jogging Yuuri's memory. He must know. Yuuri liked skating and Victor didn't want to boast but he was one of the biggest names out there. Even people with no interest in ice skating sometimes recognised him. Yuuri put the paper back into his tracksuit pants with a sigh.

“You might not get to that for a while I'm afraid, it's very difficult.”

“Yes! Many people say it's very difficult but I'm sure with enough practice I could potentially become a five time Grand Prix winner and Olympic gold medallist...” _Come on Yuuri_.

He never usually did this. He never flung his achievements about. But something about Yuuri made Victor want to impress him, show off and have Yuuri admire him, then maybe agree to go out on a date. Victor hadn't dated in years. Not that it mattered, because from Yuuri's expression it was clear that he had no idea what Victor was going on about. So instead he fake stumbled to break the tension.

It worked. He straightened up and Yuuri nodded encouragement: “It's all about how quickly you can get back up after a fall. Well done.”

His heart stopped crying about Yuuri not knowing him and sniffed. At least Yuuri praised him a little, that was something.

“I don't know about figure skating though. I would like to coach an ice hockey team, even if we have to start from scratch here.”

This time Victor actually fell. He was literally floored.

“Ice... ice hockey?” Even saying the words caused him pain.

“Yes, it's the best sport in the world!”

_The best..._ All his romantic honeymoon plans were crashing round his ears. How could his muse, his heavenly Yuuri betray him like this? He wanted to cry right then and there on the rink. Cry and cling onto Yuuri's amazing, treacherous legs. Everything was awful and wrong if Yuuri didn't like figure skating.

“Don't you like figure skating even a little?” He spoke from the floor. His butt was getting cold. He was begging much too obviously but at the same time was hardly conscious of it.

“It's pretty, I do like watching a little.” Yuuri conceded out of mercy and held out a hand for him.

It was like being reached for by the hand of a lord. He was so graceful, ice hockey was a complete waste. Those long fingers were made to flutter out during a spin, all the petals of a delicate white lily. He wasn't meant to crash into six foot men in armour wielding blunt instruments and shouting.

Victor had to rescue him from ice hockey. But first, he'd have to carry on the pretence that he couldn't skate long enough for Yuuri to see the error of his ways. Then they'd drop single skating, Victor began to fantasise, already planning elaborate costumes in his head, and pair skate competitively till Yuuri was pregnant with their first child.

Or maybe just adopt, he corrected hastily, maybe they'd adopt.

He took Yuuri's warm hand in his and tried as convincingly as possible to tremble like a beginner. Yuuri let him lean on his arm. It was wonderful. Victor tripped and stumbled a lot more after that. Perhaps if he was bad enough Yuuri would hold his waist...

The more Yuuri touched him during the next hour, the more certain he became: Yuuri was special and with him by his side Victor would find the energy he'd been lacking all season. To be completely honest, not just this season. He'd been starting to feel drained of inspiration a while back. But the way Yuuri moved sent images of figure skaters spinning round Victor's head like magic, new choreographies and moods, music, lights and touch. There was a talent in Yuuri that needed to be brought out: Victor was the man for the job.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off tumblr blog aina-p's hilarious art, as I'm sure everyone has already guessed. (Thank you very much for giving the ok to post aina!) Link to the original art:  
> http://aina-p.tumblr.com/post/154724066759/aina-p-au-where-upcoming-world-champion-viktor


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